


A Song of Thinly Veiled Metaphors and Meatballs

by LuxEvergreen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 08:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8156399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuxEvergreen/pseuds/LuxEvergreen
Summary: What happens when you send Jaime Lannister and Brienne of Tarth to a modern day Ikea store?Well, it becomes a shanty of slush and smoke.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story is pure crack. There’s so much crack in this fic, it's starting to feel like a plumbers convention to me.
> 
> So, with that said, I humbly submit to you my crackhead canon: this is the story of our favorite duo on a quest in an Ikea store. Enjoy!

 

They used to say that if you can survive a long road trip with your partner, you're going to make it [...] and now it's if you can survive a trip to Ikea. I've spoken to people who've been married for 30 years and the worst fight they've had in their entire relationship was over an Ikea piece."

-Hilary Potkevitz, The Wall Street Journal. (April 22nd, 2015)

 

\---------------------

 

 

 

“ _Come on!_ Let’s just pick up this _stupid thing_ up so we can go home.”

Standing at the entrance to the Ikea show floor, Jaime Lannister watched Brienne pour over an thick catalogue with a hideous frown on her face; she was trying hard to ignore her companion while thumbing through the romance of Ikea's storybook ads.

“I promised Catelyn Stark that I would find her—” Jaime sliced through Brienne's  vow with purr of disgust.

“No, no. I get it.   _I GET IT._ We swore a holy oath; a sacred vow: to buy Sansa Stark the recycling bins her mother asked for.”

Brienne of Tarth didn’t respond, she just stared down at the Ikea catalogue with a cool expression on her face. Starved for attention, Jaime grabbed a fist full of golf pencils from an acrylic dispenser at the entrance to the store. With a surly grunt, he shoved the ineffectual pencils into his coat pockets as he proceeded to gripe some more.

“Doing favors for the _Starks_ , doing favors for ‘ _Mister Sexy-Pants_ ’: Renly the _Friendly_ Baratheon…”

Brienne eyes started to drift towards Jaime's coat pockets; each one was bursting to the seams with golf pencils. Lifting her head from the glossy pages of the catalogue, she ended Jaime’s rant with a soft, plain declaration.

“I don’t serve the Starks or the Baratheons. I serve _Lady Catelyn.”_

Jaime didn’t respond, he just rolled his eyes and grumbled a string of curse words under his breath.

 

\------------------

 

“Quit it”.

Jaime threw another golf pencil at Brienne’s head.

“ _Cut it out_.”

Fed up with him, Brienne spun around after the third pencil smacked her on the head. Jaime had to struggle to keep a straight face on; he loved how easy it was to get a rise out of her.

“Make me.”

He threw another golf pencil at Brienne; this time, it hit her square on the nose.

 _“Stahhhap!_ Jaime!”

Blue eyes flashed with rage; Jaime decided that it would be the perfect moment to throw another pencil at her.

“Make me." He chucked another pencil at Brienne; this time, the pencil hit her throat. With surprise and delight, Jaime watched his pencil roll down the collar of her shirt before it settled in her bra.

Brienne started to grit her teeth. “You're being a baby.”

Jaime’s face turned dark with a petulant gasp. “I'm not a baby; _I'm a man_.”

Brienne scoffed. “You're not a man; you're just a big, fat _man-child_.”

Jaime’s brief smile faltered with a devastated look on his face.

“Did you just call me fat?”

Without giving her a chance to explain, Jaime pulled back his arm and launched a handful of pencils at the ugly wench.

“ _Seriously?!”_

Jaime didn’t respond, he just launched another handful of pencils at Brienne.

“You throw one more pencil at me, _and I swear by all the gods_ , I’ll climb over this table and punch you in the wedding tackle.”

Caught up in the midst of a tense standoff, nervous shoppers tried to tip-toe around them, fearful of making eye contact with either Jaime or Brienne. Feeling cheeky, Jaime lobbed a final pencil at Brienne’s throat with a big smile on his face. Once again, his pencil rolled down her shirt collar and settled in her bra.

Not one to ignore a vow, Brienne watched Jaime try to run away before she jumped on top of a dining table and tackled him to the ground. Pinning both of his hands down to the concrete floor, Brienne threatened to spit into his mouth before he grabbed one of her fists and forced her to smack her own face with it.

“ _Why are you hitting yourself?_ Huh? _Why are you hitting yourself?_ ”

In between bitter insults, broken dishes and flying silverware, the two rolled around the floor, fighting and screaming before the store’s security had to break it up. The security team was disappointed they had to end the fight so soon; the guards had placed their bets on who would win seconds before the store manager arrived.

 

\--------------------------

 

Brienne was lingering in the kitchen showroom with the threat of melancholy looming overhead.

Everywhere she turned, Brienne saw large, obnoxious photos swaying overhead from the rafters of the store. She was beginning to feel like the photos were taunting her as they dangled over her head like a silent tease. Each picture was the shiny portrait of attainable happiness, sold to all with rock bottom prices, but no matter how tall Brienne tried to walk, she was always a few inches shy of their glossy reach.

She was hypnotized by the perfection captured in each photo: they were the portraits of funky, hipster-families that had pantries stuffed with organic food and a beautiful place to call ‘home.’ Brienne’s fantasy of happiness was rudely interrupted when she suddenly caught her reflection on the side of a chrome toaster.

Looking around, she started to think of her own kitchen at home and felt a painful wrenching inside her chest. Her own kitchen was a small, gloomy, ugly little place with a stack of dirty dishes piled high in the sink; it looked nothing like the kitchen she was standing in now.

Hung above a kitchen sink, Brienne looked up and saw a photo of a gorgeous man wrapping his arms around a beautiful woman; together, they were washing dishes in a farmhouse sink—the same sink Brienne was standing in front of. The beautiful couple looked like they were part of a storybook romance; they were laughing— _almost manically_ —as they surrendered themselves to bliss, seemingly lost in the transcendental throes of a divine, mind-altering ecstasy that can only be found in the suds of greasy dishwater.

Brienne looked down at her dirty sneakers and sighed; she suddenly felt like she needed a drink.

 

Seated on top of a butcher’s block in another kitchen, Jaime was on his phone, happily watching _The Hydraulic Press Channel_ on YouTube. To his annoyance, a group of men started to wander close to where he was sitting. Oblivious to his presence, the men started to make insulting comments about a _‘hideous freak’_ across the aisle. Irritated, Jaime paused the video just so he could glare at them.

As he listened to their insults, Jaime quickly realized that the men in front of him were making fun of Brienne. Incensed, Jaime hopped off the butcher’s block and tucked his phone into his pocket.

“Hey.”

The men didn't hear him over their raucous laughter.

“ ** _Hey_** _!”_

The group of men slowly turned around to glare at Jaime. One man had a tattoo of a goat with bloody horns on his neck; Jaime realized—only when it was too late—that he was about to scold members of a violent gang. Undeterred, Jaime continued.

“I heard what you said. Yeah—you heard me. Talking smack about my friend? You need to go over there and apologize to her. _Now._ ”

A tall man with a long goatee parted his way through the surly entourage; he had bloody goat horns tattooed on his head.

“Or _what_?”

Jaime looked at the ugly goat with a smile on his pretty face.

“Or I’m going to tell _my father_ what you said, and he’s gonna call _his lawyer_ , and together they're going to draft up a _defamation lawsuit_ and then they're going to—”

Jaime didn’t get a chance to finish his threat. Instead, the man with the long goatee managed to slap the ‘pretty’ off of Jaime’s face. Bowled over in pain, Jaime fell to the ground while other men in the group started to pry his hands away from his bleeding mouth. The leader of the gang looked down at Jaime with a threatening scowl and smiled.

“Your daddy’s gonna do _what_ now?”

The men in the gang dragged Jaime's body across the kitchen floor by his arms as he kicked and screamed for help. Knocking him down to the floor, Jaime tried to mumble out his protest with a fresh mouthful of blood. Held down by two men, he watched in horror as another man picked up a heavy meat tenderizer off of the butcher’s block. Jaime started to struggle before the leader of the gang pressed a heavy boot over his throat.

“ _My father_ —”

“ _Careful_. Daddy ain't here to help you now, sweet-cheeks.”

The man with the goatee loomed over Jaime with the steel mallet in his hand. With horror, Jaime realized what was about to happen as the bloody goat raised his arm.

“No! _Nonononononono. **Noooooooo!**_ **”**

With a heavy smack, Jaime lost consciousness after the steel hammer slammed down and crushed his hand into a bloody pulp.

 

Five minutes later, Brienne found Jaime sprawled out on the kitchen floor, moaning in pain. He was there by himself with a pool of blood starting to congeal under his right hand.

“I’m gone for fifteen minutes and look what happens…”

Jaime didn't respond, he was too busy vomiting up blood on the kitchen floor.

 

\--------------------------

 

Brienne stared down at the paramedic in anger; he was supposed to be supervising the EMT who treating Jaime.

An ambulance was dispatched to the store moments after Brienne found Jaime; she was horrified to see that his bloody hand bore a striking resemblance to a lump of cherry taffy. The EMT had a bored look on his face as he tried to wrap gauze around the patient's hand; the paramedic wasn’t even paying attention to any of them, he was too busy texting his ex-girlfriend.

Within seconds, the blood saturated the white bandages on Jaime's hand. Realizing that it was almost his break time, the EMT gave up on Jaime, scratched his head and shrugged. With no concern for the patient, the paramedic shoved Jaime’s hand through an cheap arm sling before he slowly wandered away with the EMT, both heading back to their flashing ambulance parked outside.

Brienne sighed as she looked down at the store map and muttered under her breath. “I hate this place.”

Jaime looked down at his bloody hand and frowned. “Well I hate _you_.”

Brienne eyes remained fixed on the store map. “Well I hate you more.”

 

\-------------------------

 

“If I faint, pull me out.  I don’t want to be the first Lannister to die in a bathtub.”

“Ummm…”

Brienne watched Jaime sink deeper into the bathtub with a pitiful sigh. Holding his right arm close to his chest, he dropped the back of his head against the rim of the tub and whimpered like a starving puppy.

“They call me Kingslayer. Oathbreaker. _Sweet-cheeks.”_

Brienne rolled her eyes.

“Dude, come on. Get out of the tub.”

“Jaime!”  

His voice dropped down to a hoarse whisper.

“My name is _Jaime._ ”

Brienne closed her eyes and sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “Fine. Whatever. _Jaime_ : please get out of the bathtub.”  

“Why? _What’s the point?_ ” Thick tears starting to pool at the corners of his  eyes. Brienne briefly glanced over her shoulder before she looked back at him.

“ _Because—these_  nice people standing here want to look at the price tag for that shower caddy... but _they can't_ because someone's fat head is in the way.”

Jaime angled his head over to the side and saw an elderly couple shifting nervously under Brienne’s shadow. Confused and devastated, Jaime's teary eyes dropped down to his lap in the bone-dry bathtub.

Trying hard not to snivel, he raised his puppy dog eyes back up at Brienne and whimpered again in heartbreak. 

“Wait… Did you just call me fat _again_?”

 

\--------------------------

 

“…and _furthermore_ , I’ll have you know that I run five miles a day, I only eat carbs on my cheat day and my personal trainer says that I only have 8% body fat.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Bet I can bench press more than you can.”

“Suuurrre.”

“Bet I could even bench press _you_!”

Brienne stared at Jaime with a worn look in her eyes. Huffing in defiance, Jaime blocked Brienne’s pathway with a cranky hand poised on his hip. Annoyed, Brienne turned around and tried not to roll her eyes too hard. “O-Kaaayyyyyyy…”

Making a beeline for the water fountain, Brienne passed the children's section of the store and tried to remember a normal life before she met Jaime Lannister. Coming up from behind, she started to hear a strange noise that was growing louder. It almost sounded like the roar of a distant train.

Brienne glanced over her shoulder to find out what it was: it was a small herd of wildling children racing in unison, tearing through the store like a hopping tornado. Leaving only chaos and destruction in their wake, each one of their tiny little feet brought them closer to Brienne’s path. From a distance she could see Jaime try to wave his hand in warning.

For Brienne, time started to slow down to a crawl.

In her mind, she could see a dove flap its ivory wings in the rays of a lone sunbeam. She could hear the tinny echo of a soprano as she trilled Schubert's _Ave Maria_ in a mournful tone. Brienne closed her eyes and prayed to the seven. It felt as though the sweet Maid of Tarth never had a chance. The violent train of children slammed into Brienne with a staggering force. Knocked clean from her shoes, Brienne started to fly into the air; it felt as though she’d fallen for an eternity.

Off in the distance, she could see Jaime running towards her, his voice was distorted to an ugly groan from the slow passage of time. While airborne, Brienne realized that she was about to land face first into a large bin filled with teddy bears. She felt as if she were floating above herself, watching the dark comedy unfold as if it were happening to some other woman.

 _Oh_ , she thought to herself, _it’ll all be over soon._

As her face landed in the soft bed of teddy bears, Jaime skidded down to his knees in front of the bulk bin and cried out her name, tearing at his shirt in the bleak throes of despair.

Most of the wildling children slowed down to a halt just so to watch the melodramatic scene unfold. One child looked over at another child and shrugged while Jaime screamed and screamed.

 

_\------------------------------_

 

“Brienne?”

She didn't answer him.

“ _Briennnnne_!”

With one hand able and the other hand bloodied, Jaime jumped into the bin and fought his way through the churning sea of teddy bears. He was hyperventilating, near desperate; he had to find her before she drowned in the plush darkness of mortality.

Surfacing to the top with a deep gasp for air, Jaime pulled Brienne close to his chest as their heads broke to the surface. Still gasping for breath, he stroked her hair away from her mouth with a soft, tender hand. Shaky, still fighting for air, Brienne looked up at Jaime once he started to caress her cheek; they were still inside the large bin filled with teddy bears, oblivious to the world that surrounded them...

 

“ _Oh my god!_ Why don’t you two just fuck already?”

 

Jaime’s hand dropped down from Brienne’s face. Confused, they both turned their heads and slowly realized that a crowd had gathered around them. After a moment of silence, another voice found the courage to speak up.

“Yeah, seriously—come _onnn_. It feels like we've been watching you two eye-fuck the shit out of each other for years.”

Brienne blinked her big eyes up at the crowd and croaked in disbelief. There were at least a hundred people surrounding them, all of them were congregated around Jaime and Brienne with starved, anxious looks on their faces. Another voice piped up from the center of the massive crowd.

“Yeah, come on! It feels like we’ve been watching you two do this for, _like_ , five years now… probably six. _Maaayyyybe seven?”_

A studious man peered at the crowd while he snorted in derision; he had a thick book tucked under his arm and wore a jaded expression on his face. “Feels more like sixteen years _for me_.”

Some of the people in the crowd rolled their eyes at the book reader; a few people started to nod their heads in empathy. Just then, another voice in the crowd piped up at Brienne and Jaime.

“And why do you guys keep doing this awkward, flirty lill’ dance around each other whenever there’s a table between you two?”

Another voice chimed in.

“Yeah, for real. You two need to stop screwing around and start screwing for real.”

Jaime’s eyebrows started to pinch together in confusion

“Yeah, seriously. Make it official. You two need to fuck”.

“Like. _Now_.”

Humiliated, Brienne burrowed her face into her hands and groaned with shame while Jaime raised his head up from the bin and addressed the crowd in frustration.

“… _and what?_ Are you guys just gonna sit there and watch us?”

It was silent for a long time. Finally, one brave soul spoke up.

 

“Well…yeah.”

“Uhh, obviously.”

“I brought the popcorn!”

“I brought the Kleenex!”

Everyone’s eyes turned to the last voice who spoke up. 

“Ummmm, it’s for crying—uhhh, _tears!_ Yeah, that’s right! _Tears_.”

“You need to _‘cry’_ with Kleenex _and_ a bottle of lube?”

An odd, quiet woman decided to speak up from the edge of the crowd. Feeling brave, she slowly raised her hand up as if she were a student in a lecture hall.

“Ummm, _hi._ Like, I have a _huuuggge_ emotional investment in you two right now, and honestly, I'm feeling kinda weird about it.”

A woman nearby smiled as her eyes started to light up with joy.

“Hey! _Me too!”_

A guy stepped forward and approached the two women.

“Hey! You guys wanna follow me on Tumblr? I just started a fan page for these two.”

“Sure, what’s it called?”

“It’s called _‘FuckYeah-IkeaStrangers:OTP’”_

Most of the people in the crowd got on their cellphones and logged onto Tumblr. Jaime and Brienne slowly turned their heads back around and looked at each other. While Jaime’s eyes started to lower with lusty suggestion, Brienne sank her blushing face into the sea of teddy bears and wished that the bin would swallow her whole.

 

\------------------------

 

Over plates of meatballs and steamed vegetables, Jaime and Brienne slowly ate their meal together in perfect simpatico. In between nervous bites, Jaime quietly passed off his broccoli to Brienne while she gave him her yellow squash in turn. Every time she looked away, Jaime would sneak a spoonful of mashed potatoes off of Brienne’s plate.

Brienne knew that Jaime was stealing her mashed potatoes. With a smile, she realized that she didn’t mind it at all.

“Jaime, I’m grateful that you rescued me, but why did you come back? You were well away.”

A dozen insults crossed Jaime’s mind; instead he shrugged and told her the truth.

“I keep daydreaming about you.”

Brienne’s lips fell open with a partially chewed meatball in her mouth.

“Whaaaa…”

Jaime felt like smiling; feeling bold, he snatched another bite of mashed potatoes right in front of her. “Yeah. I think I have ADHD or something. I should probably go see a therapist and get that checked out.”

Brienne mumbled her disappointment into her water glass. “I think you should've seen a therapist when you were in utero.”

Jaime started to blush as he rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward laugh.“ _Yeahhhh_ … I’m not gonna argue with you on that one.”

“Hmmmm.”

“Seriously, I’ve got a lot of deep-seated, psychological issues with me.”

“No kidding.”

“Did you know that I used to wet the bed until I was eighteen?”

Startled by his confession, Brienne leaned close to Jaime’s face and placed a soft hand over his. “Jaime, sweetie…I’m going to be honest with you right now: _that’s kinda fucked up_.”

Stoic for only a moment, Jaime’s face started to brighten up with laughter before he admitted to his lie. “I’m kidding!”

Brienne was confused. “About the deep-seated psychological issues you have, or the bed wetting until you were a full grown adult?”

“About the bedwetting. But no, seriously: I’m a _hot mess._ A dumpster fire at a gas station has fewer problems than me. According to my brother, I have the emotional development of a dim four year old.”

Brienne tried to blink.

“…I really don’t know how to respond to that.”

“And I’m _pretttyyy_ sure that I’m quietly suffering from PTSD as well.”

Resting her fork on her plate, Brienne caught Jaime’s eyes before she reached for his hand again, stroking his knuckles with the heel of her thumb. “Jaime. You’re my best friend, _hell_ , I’m pretty sure that I'm in love with you—”

“Wait… you’re _in love_ with me?”

“ _…well_ , I’m like, _pretty_ sure that I’m—” A _small_ ding from Jaime's phone interrupted their tender moment. Distracted, Jaime looked down and saw a notification flash on his screen.

“Ooooo! Someone made another fan page of us on Tumblr!”

Brienne sighed as she stabbed a piece of broccoli off of Jaime’s plate.

 

\-------------------------------

 

Jaime was seated at the foot of the bed looking a little nervous. With bashful eyes, he’d briefly raised them up to glance at Brienne with a timorous smile.

Standing before Jaime at the foot of the bed, Brienne looked down at her shoes while she started fidgeting with her phone. Although her face was mostly obscured by her hair, Jaime could see the maid blush in front of him like a spring flower. Moved by her sweet nature, Jaime let out a small hum of contentment before he spoke up. 

“I want to give you something...”

Jaime locked eyes on the maid while he slowly reached down between his thighs. Brienne's eyes turned wide as her pulse started to race.“Jaime…”

Brienne didn't get a response from him; instead, Jaime started to pull out something that was tucked between his legs. It was long, spongy and... _blue?_

“Is that—”

Jaime grunted as it finally slipped out; carefully resting it on his palm, he seemed proud as he looked up at Brienne with a smug look on his face. “It’s a _sword_.”

Brienne looked down at Jaime's lap and tried hard not to laugh. Indeed, it was a sword; a cheap, toy sword made out of blue foam. “No, that’s a _toy.._.”

Jaime looked up at Brienne with a sly grin on his face. “You're telling me!”

“..that's a _toy_  you found at the children’s department in the store.” Jaime's face started to beam with pride. "Are you telling me that you'd sent me a text just so I could meet you here in the bedding department... for the sole purpose of showing me a toy that you've been hiding under your ass?"

Jaime shrugged his shoulders before he offered her his blue toy.

“I would like for you to have it…”

He presented the foam sword to her with as much dignity as he could muster. Brienne accepted the children’s toy with a softened heart.

 _“Awwww_. Jaime that’s so—”

“…and it would please me if you’d call it Oathkeeper… a _fter me_.” The smile died on Brienne’s face.

“Wait. Hold up. You gave me a gift and you have the audacity to name it _for_ me?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And not only did you name it _for_ me, you want it named after _you_?”

“Uhhh, _yeah_.”

Brienne lowered the foam sword down to her side and scratched her head. “What if I'd already picked out a name for it? What if I wanted to name it something cool like...  _The Fuck Storm_ , or _Bloodless Savage_?”

“How about _Thinly Veiled Metaphor for Jaime Lannister’s Penis_.”

“ _…huh_?”

Jaime winced. “Really, you wanna call it _The Fuck Storm_?”

Brienne felt a stress induced headache start to pound behind her eyes. “Can’t we just... _pretend_ that I was the one who wanted to call it _Oathkeeper_?”

Jaime wrapped his arm over his sling and grumbled like a sullen child. He was starting to pout.

“Sure. Whatever.”

 

\------------------

 

 

Even though they were anxious to leave, Brienne still caried the burden of finding the recycling bins for Catelyn Stark.

After Jaime finished unsheathing his sword, he suddenly felt like taking a long nap afterwards. Curling up on the showroom bed, he tucked himself under the covers and sent Brienne off on their quest to finish it alone. Before she left, she watched Jaime snore into the down comforters like a peaceful child. With a final glance, she quietly vowed to return to him with the recycling bins soon after.

Dodging her way through the hum-drum of the crowded marketplace, Brienne felt hopeless and alone in the swarming bustle of the store. Suddenly, she looked down at the cheap foam sword in her hand and smiled. It instantly reminded her of Jaime.

She saw an acrylic box filled with golf pencils. For some reason, it reminded her of Jaime.  
  
She saw a hideous plastic chair that was designed to look like a disembodied hand. Oddly enough, it reminded her of Jaime.  
  
She saw a four year old boy try to stick a metal fork into a light socket. The sound of his high pitched screams reminded her of Jaime.

She saw a thick ceramic vase that had a long, smooth shaft with two soccer balls nestled up at the base of it. Unbidden, Brienne’s thoughts suddenly turned to Jaime.

“ _Stupid sexy Jaime._ Father, give me strength. I can’t decide if I want to kiss him or run him over with my car.”

 

\--------------------

 

Waiting in line for a register—holding onto Catelyn Stark’s recycle bins and her precious foam sword—Brienne was startled when she felt something hit her on the back of her neck.

It fell to the ground with the _click_ and _clatter_ of a wooden golf pencil. Brienne looked around her and suddenly found Jaime standing nearby. They both smiled.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Approaching her with a hand crusted over with dark blood, Jaime walked up to Brienne with an innocent look on his face. Nervous, he started to confess to her all the things he’d been dying to say.

“I’ve been spending some time thinking lately; about you, about me. _About us_. And since you've been gone, I've decided that I am ready to move on with my life… and more importantly, I’ve decided that I want to share the rest of my life with you.”

Brienne lowered the recycle bins down to the floor with a quiet sputter of doubt. “I’ve only been gone for _ten minutes!”_

With his lone hand, Jaime reached down for Brienne’s hand and smiled with a husky admission. “I have a lot of intense... _highly arousing_ , mostly unexplored feelings for you _._ ”

Brienne smiled. Squeezing his hand, she looked down at the foam sword and returned his confession with a loving whisper. “I have a lot of oppressed, _sexually charged_... partially unexamined feelings for _you_.”

Encouraged by her shy laughter, Jaime inched closer to Brienne and started to whisper in her ear. “I found a mattress in the clearance aisle over by the registers. Do you wanna go check it out with me? And _maybeee_ we can... oh, fool around on it?”  
  
Flushed by the thrill of romance and maidenly nerves, Brienne stepped closer to Jaime with a shy grin and nodded.

“ _Uhhh_...sure!”

Leading her away from the registers, Brienne followed Jaime as they started to jog towards the clearance aisle with the trail of their laughter following in their wake.

Maybe it wasn’t the storybook romance that Jaime and Brienne always imagined for themselves, but it was _their_ storybook romance, and for them, they wouldn't have it any other way.

 

 

 

 

 

The end.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You know when you can't fall asleep and all of a sudden, a random idea pops in your head?
> 
> Yeah... that's what this fic was.


End file.
